Monsters Under Your Bed
by SylvanDreamer
Summary: Oneshot. It is a nameless, faceless fear that grips your heart when the lights go out, the stars twinkle ominously and the darkness seems to take a life of its own.


This wasn't the oneshot I said I'd put up but it was the one I finished first. Oneshot writing craze... Gah. I have two more waiting to be written. Hm. Strange. Everything's so canon here. Meh. Enjoy.

Note: You guys might be a bit confused by the timeline but I've written everything in chronological order with clues inside the paragraphs as to what year they are.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

**Monsters Under Your Bed**

"_Don't worry, darling. The monsters under your bed can't hurt you."_

Yes. They can.

-

The little brown-haired girl shook her head furiously as she glared at her mother and father.

"Monsters don't exist! You're just scaring me. The books I read don't say anything about them being real." Lips pursed, fists on waist and a frown looked just adorable on little Hermione. Her mother tried to hide a smile despite the exasperation she sometimes felt towards her daughter's headstrong behavior.

"Ah, ah," her father clicked his tongue. "But the books don't say anything about them not being real either."

The little girl's expression faltered a bit as she bit her lip and glanced at the bed that waited innocently at a corner of the room. Perhaps... she should check under her bed tonight.

Just to make sure.

-

_Go to sleep my little one_

_ The moon is out, the sun has gone_

_-_

"Now, now Ronniekins. There are no giant spiders under the bed."

But no matter how much Molly Weasley tried to comfort her youngest son, he still clutched tightly at her legs, bawling at the top of his lungs and big, fat tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. Really now. Fred and George had taken it a bit too far this time. Transfiguring Ron's teddy bear into a spider...

"Come on, sweetie. We'll look under your bed together all right? And then mummy will sing you a lullaby to sleep." Molly stroked Ron's hair.

Ron still sniffled but the bawling at least had stopped. Slowly, he released the tight grip of his small hands on her nightgown and nodded. Hand in hand, mother and son crossed over and knelt in front of Ron's bed. When Molly showed him that there was indeed nothing underneath, Ron's breathing evened out a little.

"Let's get you into bed then, Ronniekins," Molly crooned softly as she helped Ron onto the bed. "Everything will be better tomorrow."

-

_And I will be here the night through_

_Singing lullabies to you_

_-_

"Aunt Petunia, there's a monster under my bed."

The blond-haired woman looked at her nephew with ill-concealed dislike. The boy was wearing an oversized nightshirt and with his unkempt hair, he looked like one of the spindly beggar children from the slums. She wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"Monsters!" she harrumphed. "I've never heard of such foolishness. If you don't go back to bed _right this instant_ you'll have no meals for a week!"

The boy looked at her with huge green eyes (Lily's eyes, Petunia couldn't help but think uncomfortably) before slowly dragging his feet back to the cupboard under the stairs. As soon as the door closed, he looked forlornly at his bed. He really didn't want to to hear the shrill cackle of laughter and see the flash of green light tonight.

But really. What did he expect Aunt Petunia to do to the monster? It was a bad monster and he doubted even Aunt Petunia could've told it to leave.

Monsters were scary like that.

-

_The darkness 'neath your bed_

_Is your own monster to slay_

-

It happened during that first week in Hogwarts. Dean, Neville and Seamus weren't in the dormitory yet at that time. Ron was going through the motions of preparing himself for sleep when he caught Harry giving him an odd look.

"What're you doing?" he asked Ron who was currently kneeling in front of the bed.

Ron blushed slightly and scratched his head in embarrassment. "It's just... something I've done since I was little. I used to do it with my mum but just by myself when I got older," he said sheepishly. "Er, just checking that there aren't any monsters under the bed."

He waited for Harry to laugh at him or taunt him or tease him. He wasn't prepared for the small yet understanding smile that Harry threw his way.

"How about I check under your bed and you check under mine?"

Ron blinked before his face slowly split into a grin. So even Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, had monsters living under _his_ bed.

-

_But should you fall and hurt yourself_

_I will kiss your pain away_

_-_

Hermione was still jumpy weeks after the incident was over. Even when she had the research on Nicolas Flamel to occupy her, the unpleasant thoughts intruded every now and again.

Each night she waited before Parvati and Lavender were finally asleep then carefully, she would pull aside the covers and peek under the bed. Even though she knew she was being irrational, she couldn't suppress the shiver that came whenever she thought back to that incident in the bathroom with the troll.

She could have died.

And that troll was just so... ugly. With its ungainliness and heavy breathing that she fancied she could hear under her bed each night and that kept her awake for hours on end. Maybe her parents had been right. Were trolls the monsters that lurked under her sheets?

In mornings though when she was with Ron and Harry she forgot about the monsters. And eventually, the trolls under her bed went away.

-

_When you see the red eyes glowing_

_And in the dark you hear the screaming_

_-_

Harry hugged the sheets closer to him. His friends were all lying on their beds, dead from looking in the eyes of the basilisk. He had awoken to the sound of screams and the sight of the lifeless bodies. He'd jammed on his glasses and groped about for his wand. Nothing. His wand wasn't there.

Harry tried to look around but it was too dark and he realized he shouldn't look. Basilisk eyes would kill him. So he closed his eyes.

That was when he heard scales slithering on the floor and a pang of gut-wrenching fear shot through him. The basilisk was under his bed. Any moment now, the snake would strike.

_Where was everyone else?_ He thought panicking. _Didn't anybody else hear the screams?_

His body grew cold as a thought occurred to him. What if there was no one else? What if the basilisk had killed them all already? What if Harry was the only one left?

He heard a hiss but before he could react, pain blossomed through his body as the snake sank its fangs into Harry's flesh, blood painting the sheets. Harry screamed in agony -

- and woke up. Neville was standing over him uncertainly.

"Are you okay, Harry?"

-

_Then you huddle in your bed_

_Void of comfort, full of dread_

-

Ron burst out laughing. They were the only people in the common room at this hour. The fire was burning low and Harry was feverishly studying for the next exam. A pink flush tinted Hermione's cheek as she glowered at Ron.

"It's not funny, you know!"

Ron made a huge effort to stop laughing. "Yes, it is!" a chuckle made its way past his mouth. "I can't _believe_ you dreamed about that boggart exam we had, Hermione. 'You failed everything'? Is that even possible?"

Ron resumed guffawing while Hermione stood up suddenly and grabbed her stuff. "Of course it's possible, Ronald," she retorted icily. "Anything is. Don't tell me _you_ don't have nightmares of your own." With a huff, she stomped up to her dormitory.

Harry's eyes followed her before he sighed and turned back to Ron. Before he could speak however, he stopped short. Ron had grown a bit pale and his eyes were downcast and focused on the floor. Harry didn't have to ask. Recently, he and Ron had taken to looking under each other's beds again like they used to do in First Year.

"What about?" Harry asked softly, referring to the nightmares.

Ron sharply glanced up and understood. "The Grim."

Harry gazed at the steadily dying fire. "Dementors," he whispered.

Monsters that never really left.

-

_Though tears prickle in your eyes_

_Don't give in now, don't you cry_

_-_

Hermione dreamed of the Quidditch World Cup. She dreamed that the muggles that those Death Eaters had played with was her family. She dreamed of the Death Eaters themselves, malice gleaming in their bone-white masks. She dreamed of Umbridge and the loathsome woman's tyranny of their school that was now thankfully over. She dreamed dreams that would evaporate from her memory like mist when the sun came out.

She dreamed of Ron's little furtive smiles and looks, of the blankness and tears in Harry's eyes when no one was looking.

She would wake up from these dreams disturbed. Now that she was home for vacation, her remedy was usually a cold glass of milk. She would sit in the kitchen sipping it and staring off into space. When she was done she would head off to her parents' bedroom, slowly open the door and simply watch them as they slept. Her mother had once seen her standing by the door and had asked what she was doing there at that time of night.

Hermione had swallowed the lump in her throat. "Can I sleep with you and dad tonight, mum?"

Her mother had smiled and agreed and Hermione had crawled into the sheets between her parents, suppressing the tears. The War had begun. Soon she knew, it would break out into the public. Harry would have to play the role fate had dealt him with. And Hermione knew that come hell or high water, she would stand beside Harry. But as she listened to her parents' steady, soft breaths as they slept peacefully, she wondered if she had what it took to do what needed to be done in order to keep them safe.

Everytime she peeked under her bed nowadays, there was nothing. It seemed as if the emptiness was mocking her, telling her that the monster was only biding its time. Then goosebumps would crawl on her skin.

She wished at that moment that she was a Seer. Not knowing what lay ahead was more frightening than any monster she could face.

-

_Breathe in deeply as you lie_

_And softly sing my lullaby_

_-_

Ron dreamed of Percy and the way he had so blithely disregarded their family. He dreamed of the time he had been kidnapped by merpeople with their horrible screeching voices still reverberating in his head. He dreamed of Grawp and Hagrid. Of those slimy jars of brain-like... _things_ that had wrapped themselves around him during the attack at the Ministry. The dreams needled into his consciousness.

He dreamed of his mother who still shed tears over her prodigal son, of his father who looked increasingly haggard with each ticking of the clock, of Ginny who looked at Harry the way Ron wanted Hermione to look at him.

He would wake up from those dreams breathing deeply and in the dark he would familiarize himself with the comforting little shadows of his room. When he had calmed down enough, he would sleep again. Sometimes, Ginny would come into his room and just sit beside him. Neither would speak and after some time, Ginny would leave, apparently satisfied.

These days, Ron's mannerisms changed in subtle little gestures. He would offer his help to his mum more often in household chores, hug Ginny a little tighter, play Quidditch with Bill on long afternoons and visit Fred and George's shop more often.

One evening as his father was poring over paperwork, Ron brought him a cup of tea. Arthur Weasley looked up at his son in surprise then smiled, the lines etched into his face smoothing out for a moment.

"Thank you, son," Arthur then paused to sip at the tea. "You've grown up a lot."

Ron surprised them both by throwing his arms around Mr. Weasley and holding him tight. It was a moment before Mr. Weasley's arms came up and hugged Ron back.

"I love you, Dad." The words were muffled but unmistakable.

Ron never looked under his bed these days. The monster he feared wasn't there, he knew. The monster he feared was... fear. Fear that his family, his friends, his loved ones would be taken away from him. The monster he feared was in himself.

Ron never looked under his bed. The monster of fear was enough. What if he found another monster there too?

-

_And as your voice drifts pure and clear_

_The monster slinks away in fear_

_-_

Harry dreamed of bodies. He dreamed of Cedric and how cold and inhuman Cedric's flesh had been when Harry held it as they PortKeyed. He dreamed of Sirius' body, falling slowly in a graceful arc into the Veil. He dreamed of his parents and on really horrible nights, their dying screams. He dreamed of Voldemort, of his smirk as the green light of the Killing Curse hit Harry at last.

He dreamed of Professor Dumbledore, who's judgment had always, always guided him. Of Ron and Hermione because he seemed to _know_, that they'd be there for him in the very end.

He woke up from those dreams more often than not with his screams filling the house, waking the Dursleys and causing Uncle Vernon to yell at him from their bedroom. He never went back to sleep after. Sometimes he would read, some times just stroke and pet Hedwig and sometimes just watch and wait for the first rays of the sun to light up his room.

He tried to be more civil to the Dursleys these days. He did everything he could think of to quell the growing knot down his stomach whenever thoughts about the war would resurface. He tried not to think of Sirius and all the if-onlys he would never experience with his godfather.

Harry was too scared to look under the bed these days. He didn't want to find the dead bodies of Sirius, Cedric and all the other people who had died because of him. He didn't want to find the bodies of all the people who would die because of him. They reminded him of the terrible, terrible burden that rested on his shoulders alone. The hope. The Savior. The Boy Who Lived.

Tears could not be enough to express his anguish.

He would sleep the sleep of the fitful and restless, too terrified that any moment a bloody and half-mangled body would emerge from under his bed and demand to know,

"Why couldn't you save me?"

And he would have no way of answering.

-

_Now rest, my child, devoid of fright_

_Rest your weary head tonight._

_-_

They lay sprawled on the floor, listening to the pitter-pattering of the rain on the tent canvas. The light came from the fire-in-a-jar that Hermione had created. Hermione's head was resting on Ron's shoulder and one of Ron's hands lightly pressed on Hermione's arm. Harry was sitting across from them, legs spread out in front of him and head tossed back, looking up at the canvas ceiling.

It was raining outside. And for now, it was a small comfort to stay in their tent and listen to the rain. None of the three spoke a word. They didn't even look at each other.

Harry angled his head slightly and focused on the tent flap that Hermione had lifted up slightly, to allow the cool air to enter and breeze inside the tent. From what he could see, outside the flap, there was only darkness.

They would not have beds to sleep on tonight. But then again, even if they had beds, there was little to worry about. The monster was not under the dusty darkness that lay hidden beneath their beds. Harry narrowed his eyes.

The monster was out there right now, rampaging through the Wizarding World, leaving a trail of death and tears in his wake.

Unconsciously, one of Harry's hands closed into a fist as Hermione drew closer to Ron, the sudden draft making her feel cold.

They were not children anymore. They could not run away forever. Because if they did not stand up now, the monster would kill and destroy everything they held dear. There had been enough huddling into the blankets and merely waiting for day to come. In this darkness, day would not come unless they made it.

There were no more adults to protect them and the tears had run dry. The only thing left to do now was to confront the monster.

_It was time_, Harry thought meeting Ron and Hermione's equally determined eyes. _To fight._

**End**

Grrr. Did not like the ending much. But I'm sick. Physically sick. Sigh. Read and review guys.


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